so the serpent slithered. o a fucking murmur across the dried leaves. a green band against the faded pigments of the leaves. it slid along, as constant as a horseshoe, until it slipped below the earth (amidst a circle of toadstools). am i the only one cursing saint patrick? i mean, its no big surprise to find me cursing saints. but come on now. its half the reason why the day-to-day is so banal. people don't know where to find the magic anymore- & when they do, its only in horror. giger knew his way about it (to be as cliche as fucking a whore with her tampon still in). ophidian or hive, but come on. if it isn't clear by now that "squamous" is an important fucking adjective, what gives? i mean, are We failing to get the message across? there should be more Wuxing, shouldn't there. more fucking ley line magic. but fuck, nobody listens to me when i talk about magic. when i tell people that i like to ride the n over the bridge, they tell me they don't take any notice. don't take notice!? your city is a towering gem of steel & glass! they actually named the buildings after the fact that they are so high they seem to scrape the sky. you could pick up you magic cell phone & have instant communication with japan. i've fucking done it. you want to tell me how this isn't magic? you dumb fucks. i hate you world more than you can imagine but even i can be amazed & baffled at what your species has accomplished.